A Little Knowledge
by Halcris
Summary: I try to keep my stories back in the Proffessionals own era, so their dealings with Arabs are purely on the basis of criminal activities, with no political , racial or religious overtones. Several apparently un-connected pieces of information come together to bring about a successful conclusion for C.I.5


A Little Knowledge.

In a large empty room on the outskirts of Cairo, a man stood patiently waiting, hidden in a curtained alcove.  
A door at the far side of the room opened, and a tall man in Arab dress entered silently. He gazed around, and began to move stealthily across the room. He neared the curtained alcove.

Suddenly, without warning, he whipped out a gun, and fired several shots into the alcove.

The hidden man tumbled out, to lie on the floor, bleeding profusely and groaning feebly, as his assailant stood over him, gazing down dispassionately at his victim.

The door opened again, and two big men came in, dragging a reluctant third between them. Their captive, smaller than them, resisted vigorously as they propelled him towards the tall Arab, and the fallen man.

He fought them all the way, but as they came almost up to the others, he suddenly changed. He stopped fighting and went limp in their hands. Surprised, his captors were taken off-guard, and relaxed their grip. Their victim seized his planned chance. He swung them together before him, to collide heavily. All three toppled to the ground. The little man reached into his clothing, and without hesitation activated a switch.

As he had intended, the bomb that went off killed all five of them ! The sound of the blast died away, the smoke cleared, the dust settled, and the room was silent again.

Bodie and Doyle entered Cowley's office, to find him frowning over a report that had just come in. "We've lost two good men in Cairo," he informed them. "They weren't agents, but they were excellent informants, feeding us a lot of information about Arab criminal activities.

"A nasty loss," commented Bodie. "There's a lot going on out there."

"With repercussions over here," added Doyle.

"The information came to us through the sister of one of the men," continued Cowley. "I fear she may be in danger now. So I want you to go and pick her up and move her to one of the safe houses. Her name is Asalah Shamon, and here is her address."

He handed a slip of paper to Bodie, who immediately showed it to his partner.

"I know that area," said Doyle, as they left. "Quite a few Arabs live there."

They picked up Doyle's car, and he quickly drove them in the right direction. But as they arrived near the address, they got quite a shock. Already two police cars and an ambulance were there.

They had to park a little further away than they would have liked, and hurried forward to find out what was happening. The suspicion already in their minds was voiced by Doyle. "Looks as if we might be too late," he said.

"You could be right," agreed Bodie grimly. Showing their I.D.s quickly got them through to the officer in charge.

"What's going on, sir ?," Doyle asked politely.

"An Arabian girl has been murdered," reported the man, "And her flat's been ransacked."

Bodie and Doyle exchanged looks. It seemed as if they were right. They had got there too late. Cowley would not be pleased.

The co-operative officer showed them the scene. The girl's body lay in the kitchen, decently covered over. The rest of the small flat had been ruthlessly searched. For what ?. The officer was presuming burglary, and the C.I 5 pair didn't enlighten him with what they knew.

At the back of the curious crowd watching the proceedings, stood a slim dark girl, with tears in her eyes. She saw Bodie and Doyle arrive, but she was not in sight when they left and walked back towards their car. They were not looking forward to making their report to Cowley. He would not be best pleased !

In morose mood they reached the car, climbed in and set off. They had not gone many yards before Doyle's instinct flashed a warning to him. He began to slow down, when a voice reached him from the back of the car.

"Please drive on," came a low female voice. "I must not be seen leaving with you."

Doyle responded quickly, and soon the car was well out of the area. Beside him, Bodie was tense, and had his hand on his gun, but had resisted the impulse to turn round. Doyle drew the car into a lay-by in a quiet side street. He pulled up and looked carefully all around, although he was sure they hadn't been followed. Then both men turned round.

The slim dark girl got up from the well of the back seat, and eased into a more comfortable position. "I guessed who you were," she began. "I am Asalah Shamon. "The poor girl who was killed was Mira, my flatmate."

There were tears in her eyes, and sorrow in her voice as she went on. "I was very fond of her," she whispered. "We were like sisters, and now I have caused her death."

Both Bodie and Doyle were moved, but there was nothing they could say to help.

"I have lost a brother, too," she added. "So you may be sure I will do anything I can to help you."

Doyle activated the car-phone, and called into base. He quickly explained to his boss all that had happened, and received immediate orders.

"Take her straight to the safe house, as arranged," he said, "and stay with her till I send you relief officers."

They did as he said, and after carefully checking that there was no sign of them having been followed, were safely ensconced in the little pleasant flat. Bodie got the kettle on, and soon all three were relaxing round the kitchen table, enjoying the coffee and biscuits found in the well-stocked cupboards.

"I've been thinking," began Doyle.

"It's a bad habit he's got," quipped Bodie. "I'm trying to cure him."

Doyle threw him a glare but didn't respond, as he went on. "They ransacked the place," he said, "What were they looking for, and did they find it ?."

"If they are who I think they are," replied Asalah. "I've a fair idea of what they were after, but they didn't get it. I never write anything down. I have a very good memory for the spoken word. I was given a telephone number, and anything my brother told me, I repeated word for word to one of your men."

Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances. They hadn't known about that.

"I think his name is Murphy," Asalah went on. "He has a very nice voice."

"We know him," said Doyle. "He's a nice man."

Then he went on with some further thoughts.

There's no way you can go back to your flat," he said. "At the moment they think they've done what they wanted to. If you were seen there, they might start asking questions. If they discovered there were two girls living there, they'd try to get you too, to be sure."

"But I need some of my things," she protested. "I left with only what I stand up in."

"We can do something about that, I think," said Doyle. "It'll be something to keep you busy. Write down a complete list of things you need, and where to find them, and we'll get one of our girls to go in and find it all. Then it can be brought to you secretly."

They were as good as their word, and quite soon Asalah felt happier with some of her own things about her. She was confined to the house for the meantime, of course, but she was never lonely, for her 'minders' changed constantly. Although very much alert and on duty, they were cheerful and pleasant with her.

On the third day, a new man arrived. He was tall and dark and as soon as he spoke she knew this was Murphy.

"I am pleased to meet you," she said. "I shall be very sorry not to be working with you any more now that my brother is dead."

Murphy's reply surprised her. "As a matter of fact," he began, "Our boss, Mr. Cowley has sent me to talk to you about that."

"Why ?," she asked eagerly, "Is there some way I can still be of use to you ? I would willingly help, for the sake of my poor murdered friend, and my brother."

"Mr. Cowley wondered," went on Murphy, "whether you would be willing to be placed, with a new identity, into a community where there are many Arab residents, to listen and observe, and to report to us anything of interest."

"I like the sound of that," she agreed happily. And with all C.I.5's usual efficiency, it was all arranged.

She was installed under a new name, in a pleasant little maisonette in the chosen area. An easy interesting job in a nearby delicatessen was found for her. Nothing was to be expected of her very quickly, so she was left to settle into her new life.

Bodie and Doyle did not expect to have any more contact with her. They had plenty of other work to keep them going. C.I.5 always had something 'on the go'.

But Murphy was detailed to phone her regularly, just to check that she was all right. She began to look forward to hearing his voice, though she had nothing to report, except that she was settling in nicely and getting to know people.

So it was some time before she had anything of interest to tell him. "I am sorry I am not being of more use to you," she said apologetically. "All I can report is local gossip. The girls I work with, younger than me and a bit flighty, talk a lot about two youngish Arab men who live at the corner of our street. They are intrigued because the pair resist all their attempts to get to know them better."

"Do you think they are interesting ?," asked Murphy.

"Well maybe," she replied. "Nobody seems to know much about them. They don't work regular hours. They come and go at odd times during the day, but they must do something, for they live in a better-class flat, and they never seem to be short of money. I've kept an eye on them, and one unusual thing has emerged. Twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday evening, they are picked up in a big black car."

"Curious," commented Murphy.

"It's just when I get home from work," she went on, "So I see it regularly. One evening I went out with a pretend letter to post, and walked past the car, but it had dark tinted windows so I couldn't see who was in it. I did take note of the number-plate though."

"Clever girl," replied Murphy, writing it down as she told it to him. "It might be worth checking, thank you."

The details she had given were quickly followed up. The car was found to be registered to one Ahmed Kassab, an affluent Arab business man, partner in a long-established firm of importers and exporters. Both he and the firm were discretely investigated, but nothing untoward had come to light. They were a well known large and profitable business.

The following Thursday, early evening, a dark-skinned man in a rather tired wind-cheater and a baseball cap wandered idly up the road where Asalah lived. He was weaving about a bit, so anyone who did notice him might well think he was drunk. As he passed the big black car that had just drawn up to the kerb, he stumbled and tripped, falling against the back of the car for a moment, before he re-gained his balance. A couple of people passing did notice this and frowned in disgust at someone this drunk this early in the day. But no-one spotted the swift hand that reached under the back wheel-arch, and safely attached the little magnetic 'tracer' there !

Jax straightened up, and wandered slowly on up the street. He turned the corner, his pace picked up, and then he was climbing into the back of a dark blue van packed with electronic equipment.

"All right ?," he asked.

"Fine," replied the operator. "He's moving now, and there goes Pearson after him," he added, as they saw the grey car behind them move off. "He'll be reporting to base, so we'd better get back there."

Cowley glanced up momentarily as his two agents tapped on the door and entered. Then he returned his gaze to the report he was poring over.

"Anything there for us, sir ?," asked Bodie hopefully. For the last two days they had been on an unproductive stake-out, and he was fed up with it.

"I'm not sure yet," his boss replied thoughtfully. "Do you remember Asalah Shamon ?"

For a moment Bodie's face went blank as the name meant nothing to him. But it all came back quickly as his partner's excellent memory saved him.

"Yes," replied Doyle swiftly. "That Arab girl we re-located after her flat-mate had been murdered."

"Correct," said Cowley getting the reply he had expected. "She's settled down very well. She does still keep in touch with Murphy," he added.

This was news to Doyle and Bodie, who threw a smirking glance to his mate.

"Nothing like that," snapped Cowley, who never missed a thing. "We have deliberately put her in a neighbourhood we were concerned about, and asked her to report on anything unusual."

"And she's come up with something interesting ?," asked Doyle.

"Possibly," replied his boss. He then went on to tell them about the two Arabs she had watched and their regular trips in the big black car. He related how Jax had cleverly 'bugged' the vehicle and Pearson had followed it.

"They went to a small un-used warehouse belonging to the firm involved with the owner of the car, one Ahmed Kassab."

"Has he been checked,?," asked Bodie interestedly.

"Yes," confirmed Cowley, "and we found nothing unusual about him or the business." He continued the story. "Pearson parked at a safe distance, and kept watch. He saw more Arabs turn up and enter the building. He reckoned just over twenty, though he couldn't tell if there were more already inside."

"That isn't anything illegal, is it ?," commented Bodie.

"No," agreed his boss. "and after a couple of hours, they all left , a few at a time, and the two he'd been following were driven back."

"I wonder what was going on during those two hours ?," mused Doyle thoughtfully. Then he had an idea.

"Today's Wednesday," he said.

"So ?," demanded Bodie, not understanding what his mate had in mind.

"What if we get in there late tonight, and plant some 'bugs'," suggested Doyle. "Then tomorrow we might hear what is going on."

He looked hopefully towards his boss, mentally willing him to sanction the action. The concentrated look on Cowley's face told him that he was weighing up the 'pros' and 'cons' of the idea. Finally he spoke.

"It's a good idea," he said, "We might learn if it is something for us to be concerned about. But be very careful," he added, "Their behaviour is odd, but as yet we have nothing to suggest it is either illegal or criminal."

"Yes," admitted Doyle. "It could be just a 'men's meeting', as run by various organisations and religions."

"Well if we listen in, we'll know, won't we ?," said Bodie reasonably.

It was done expertly. Midnight saw two dark-clad figures moving stealthily towards the door of the small warehouse. The simple padlock on the door yielded easily to Doyle's special keys, and they slipped inside.

The bright moonlight shining in through the high windows obviated the use of the powerful torches they had brought, and showed them the interior of the place. Nothing exciting. All they could see were rows of cheap wooden chairs, and at the far end, an ordinary-looking table. A few yards away from that was a wooden lectern.

Thinking it would be a good place for his 'bug', Doyle hurried towards it. He found it very disappointing. It was so plain, nothing ornate about it, which would make it difficult to conceal the tiny mechanism he wanted to plant. It would be seen too easily. Then he had an idea. Very carefully, he tilted the whole thing up. It wasn't heavy, and to his great relief, he found a little crevice on the underside of the base, and wedged his little 'bug' securely into it.

As he stood the lectern upright again, he looked for his partner, and couldn't immediately see him. Then he spotted him crawling under the plain table. Finding a convenient metal bracket, Bodie fixed the little object right up into a corner under the table. Then he emerged again, brushing off the dust.

"That should do it," he whispered, and Doyle nodded.

They left as quickly as they had come, replacing the padlock carefully, and disappeared into the night.

Late on the Thursday afternoon, an un-marked dark blue van moved into position several streets away. The two trained specialists aboard checked their equipment and settled down to wait.

When the pair reported to Cowley's office the next morning, Bodie could not control his curiosity, and posed a question.

"Our 'bugs', sir," he asked. "Did they work all right ?."

"As they were meant to, of course," replied Cowley. "But they recorded a lot of trivial conversation, some in English and some in Arabic. They've got several translators and interpreters working it now, and they'll send me a report as soon as they can, but it will take them a while."

Bodie looked a bit disappointed at that, but his boss took no notice.

"We've plenty to get on with in the meantime," he said briskly, and sent them off to make enquiries on a totally different investigation.

Morton, from the Computer Section, clutching a large blue folder, began climbing the stairs at Headquarters, a building he didn't often visit. He was not looking forward to the task before him.

Quick footsteps sounded behind him, and a moment later, he was flanked by two men, who greeted him cheerfully.

Recognizing them, he put a question. "Was it you two who planted the 'bugs' in that warehouse ?," he asked

Yes," admitted Bodie instantly. "Neatly done too," he added smugly.

"They worked all right, didn't they ?," Doyle asked anxiously.

"Too blooming well," replied Morton plaintively. "You gave us the heck of a task deciphering it all, and half of it in a foreign language too."

The other two laughed at his complaining tone.

"Well, that's your job, isn't it ?," said Bodie.

"I'm not looking forward to explaining it all to Cowley," went on Morton, looking rather worried. "How do you two get on with our boss ?," he asked.

"He's all right," snapped Bodie quickly, always ready to defend the fiery little Scot.

"When you get used to his ways," added Doyle.

"Well, he scares the wits out of me," said Morton vehemently.

The other two smiled at this, neither of them ready to admit that he almost did the same to them on occasions, too.

"It's O.K." said Bodie cheerfully. "We're coming too, and we won't let him bite you."

Somewhat re-assured, Morton was glad of their company as they tapped on the office door and were called in.

Cowley didn't seem to be in a very good mood. "Well," he said, scowling at Morton, "What have you found ?."

"It's going to take a while to explain, sir," said Morton, more bravely than he felt.

Cowley calmed down a bit and consciously side-lined his annoyance at something un-connected with this. He motioned to the others to bring up chairs from the far side of the room, and when they were all settled, gave his full attention to the matter in hand. He had to deal with so many things at the same time, that occasionally he found it hard to cope.

"To start with," began Morton, "there was a lot of confused conversation. The men came in a few at a time and greeted each other. They talked about the usual trivial things, the weather, things they had done, their jobs. Some were evidently related and were checking up on family things. Things like "Is Aunt Mira out of hospital ?" and "Has Leah's baby come yet ?"

"Is that all you got ?," exclaimed Bodie in a disappointed tone.

"To start with, yes," said Morton. "They seemed to be waiting for something. Then a voice was heard calling them to order, and asking them to take their seats. It was very clear because I think he was standing by the table at the front."

"That was where my 'bug' was," chortled Bodie. "Under the table."

"There was a bit of noise, as they all took seats and settled down," continued Morton. "The chap in charge gave out a few notices, news of people unable to be present, and word about future meetings they might like to attend, etc. Then there was the sound of an opening door, and some footsteps, which cause a stir among those seated."

"As if someone important had just come in," interposed Cowley.

"Yes, sir," agreed Morton, "and by the sound of it he walked straight to the front and stood by the lectern."  
"Where Doyle's 'bug' was," said Bodie, and got glared at for interrupting again.

"The first speaker introduced him," continued Morton, "It's the only name we got all evening. He said, "Friends, Ahmed Hassab.".

"The owner of the car that brings those two we had followed," confirmed Cowley. "What did he have to say ?."

"Not a great deal but very important, I think," said Morton. "Something they were waiting for. His actual words were "Friends, we have a date at last, Three weeks from now, at the courts in the Strand. And I have it confirmed that he will come, to see what happens to his son. That will be our chance to get him."

Morton paused to let them take in what he'd just told them, and then went on. "The people listening gave this a cheer of approval, and it was quite a while before it quietened down again. Then Hassab spoke again. "No more now," he said, "I will come again when our plans have been made, and tell you the part you must play. Say nothing to anyone till then."

"And that was the end of it," concluded Morton. "There was a bit of general hub-bub as coffee and biscuits were served, and then they must have drifted away a few at a time."

"And no more names ?," questioned Cowley.

"No," replied Morton. He handed the folder over to Cowley. "It's all written down there, sir, every detail. You can contact us if you need anything clarified."

Cowley nodded and dismissed him. Morton got up and left, thankful that he had done his part, and it hadn't been quite as bad as he had feared.

Cowley turned over the copious pages contained in the folder, trying to make his mind up about the contents.

Glancing up, he caught the thoughtful expression on Doyle's face, and decided, for once, to ask for his opinion.

"You seem to be deep in thought, Doyle," he said. "What do you make of it ?"

"I'm not sure, sir," replied Doyle. "On the face of it, it seems like a simple social gathering. But then there is what Hassab had to say."

"I agree that is the only thing of significance," said Cowley. "But what is it actually telling us ? That someone of some importance, who doesn't usually come to this country, is coming because his son is due in our courts."

"Yes, sir," agreed Doyle, "But the bit that bothers me is the words 'get him'. Just what does that mean ?."

Bodie was feeling left out of this conversation, so added his comment. "To me," he said, "'Get him' sounds like a planned assassination."

"That is a possible interpretation," agreed Cowley, "but we have no name to put to the possible victim."

Doyle sat bolt upright in his chair. "But there is one way we might find out," he exclaimed excitedly. "We could check who is due in court, in three weeks time."

"Good," said Cowley. "Get straight onto that !."

As he watched them leave, he mused gratefully that his top team brought him brains as well as physical skills.

Bodie and Doyle spent the next few days at the law courts in the Strand, using their I.D. authority to search for the information they required. It took a while for there were several courts, and a constant programme of cases to be looked at.

But at last, they thought they had found what they wanted, and hurried back to tell Cowley. He listened carefully to the information they had acquired.

"There's only one case that probably fits with what we know," began Doyle. "It concerns four young Arab men, on various severe charges, from smuggling in large quantities of heroin, processing it in their flat, and dealing and pushing in the open market. I found an Inspector I knew, who was involved. In his opinion it's a clear case, and they are sure to get a conviction."

"It doesn't always happen," commented Cowley, "Clever lawyers and a bit of influence."

"Inspector Reilly says he reckons it will be all right, for they have a lot of evidence and several good witnesses. Which is just as well, for he also told me that the four were totally un-co-operative, and denied everything. They got little from them beyond their names."

He looked down at the list in his hand, before going on. "And that's when we hit a snag, sir," he said apologetically.

"Oh, what was that ?," asked his boss.

"We can't find a 'father figure' to correlate with any of their names," replied Doyle. "Nor anything to suggest that any one of them has a well-known father."

"Where have you tried ?," queried Cowley.

"Arab political circles, prominent Arab business men, and even Interpol," said Doyle, "and everywhere else I could think of."

Noting the tired look of his man, Cowley accepted he had done his best. Cowley leant back in his chair, his fingers steepled, and thought hard about the problem. Then an idea came to him. He sat up quickly.

"I wonder it that Arab girl, Asalah, might know something," he mused.

"Great idea !," exclaimed the action-starved Bodie. "Shall we go and pick her up ?." Something more interesting than searching through records, he was thinking.

"No !," Cowley immediately vetoed that emphatically. Bodie looked crest-fallen till his boss explained.

"None of us must be seen with her," he said, "It would put her at risk. The men who killed her flat-mate could still be about."

"But we can get round it," he said briskly. "Get one of the girls from the office to go and collect her, and take her, with suitable precautions, to safe-house 3. We can meet her there."

With C.I.5's usual efficiency, arrangements were quickly put in hand.

Cowley, Bodie, Doyle and Murphy were all waiting in the comfortable lounge of safe house 3. Then Maria, one of the office girls entered, ushering Asalah.

Doyle, ever observant, noticed how Asalah's face lit up when she saw Murphy was there. Oh dear, thought Doyle, I hope Murphy's natural courtesy hasn't given her ideas. Then he gave himself a mental shake. I'm not his keeper, he thought, and besides, he's wise enough to realise that getting too close would put her life in danger.

To bring them up to date with the situation, the conversations recorded by the 'bugs' were played over for the benefit of both Murphy and Asalah. The Arab girl listened intently, being able to follow in both languages, of course.

"I wonder who they are after ?," she said thoughtfully when it had finished.

"So did we," put in Cowley.

"Have you found out about the trial they are interested in ?" she asked.

Doyle answered her. "Yes, we have," he said. "The best bet is one involving four Arab men on a serious drugs charge."

"Yes," added Bodie, "But the snag is, we can't find any trace of an important father."

"You have their names ?," she asked. "May I see them, please."

Cowley handed her the list. She looked at it carefully. Suddenly her face lit up, as an important memory returned to her mind.

"It's this one," she exclaimed, pointing to the third name on the list. "It was one of the last things my brother had found out and passed on to me. It's probably why he was killed."

Her audience was all attention, as she continued. "He has used his mother's name since he was a child," she said, "so that his father's identity is kept secret. But his father is 'Alnnusr'."

This unusual nickname produced instant re-action from those listening !

This Arabic soubriquet, meaning 'The Eagle', was that of the most wanted man in the Middle East and all along the North African coast. There wasn't a single criminal activity that he and his band of ruthless followers were not into.

They were hated and feared everywhere. Interpol had been trying for many years to catch up with him, with little success. He had many agents and spies everywhere, and if anyone did learn his identity, they kept quiet about it for fear of their lives.

"He's never come to this country before, as far as we know," said Cowley.

"Hassab seemed sure he is coming," put in Doyle. "Perhaps that's why these men have been so arrogant and un-co-operative. His son is expecting him to come and get him out of trouble in some way."

"Why is Hassab so keen to 'get him' ?," queried Murphy.

"Because of his business, I expect," explained Cowley. "Any business dealing in the area he controls will be paying extortionate 'protection' fees to keep their sales out there safe."

"It would be a super coup if we could catch him," said Murphy.

"Agreed," replied Cowley. "The problem is that no-one knows his real name or what he looks like, and parties of Arabs come in quite often on trade missions."

Asalah, who had been listening quietly to all this speculation, suddenly spoke up. "Mr. Cowley," she said, "I think I might be able to help you a little more."

She immediately had the attention of all of them

"My brother did give me two names. There are two men who have now become constant companions of 'Alnnusr'. Tough men, probably bodyguards. But they have only been with him the last six or seven years."

Most of the faces turned towards her looked puzzled, as they had not as yet followed her train of thought, so she went on.

"I wondered whether perhaps they were criminals before they joined him, and as such were known to Interpol. If so, there would be pictures of them. Even if they were using false names they might be recognised entering this country."

"Thank you, Asalah," said Cowley. "That sounds like a possible lead, and the only one we have. If you give us the names, we will follow that up at once."

This brought the session to a close, and Maria was instructed to take Asalah home. They left with a couple of carrier bags with the names of prestigious shops on them, so that anyone who saw them would think they had just been two girls on a shopping spree. Such details were cleverly planned to safeguard any valuable witness.

As they left, Doyle got a bit of a shock as he saw the expression on Murphy's face, as his eyes followed the retreating figure. He moved quickly to his friend's side and put a gentle hand on his arm.

"It won't do, Murph," he said very quietly.

Instead of flaring up, as Bodie would have done, Murphy just gave his friend a rather sad smile. "It's all right, Ray," he said, "I do know. It's one of the penalties of our job, isn't it ?. But she's such a lovely girl and very brave too."

Doyle nodded in agreement, and the two left together companionably.

Doyle and Murphy, who were both good at such tasks, were given the job of contacting Interpol regarding the two names they had been given. To start with they had no success at all, for the names were not on Interpol's current records.

But with a lot of trial and error, they delved back into older records, and eventually found what they were searching for. The men had been known for their criminal activities then. They finally came up with two pictures that they could file in their report, though they had to accept that these were several long years out of date.

Meanwhile, Cowley had thought out a scheme of his own. He drove Bodie to his flat and waited while he changed into more formal clothes. He was planning a trip to business premises, and wanted his back-up to look the part.

Satisfied, he then drove them both into the business centre of the City, and to the offices of a certain large firm of importers and exporters.

His authoritative manner ensured that his request to speak to Mr. Hassab was readily accepted and the pair were ushered into a lavishly equipped office.

Hassab rose from his desk, and greeted them in an almost obsequious manner. He personally pulled up chairs for them, and offered them coffee, which they declined politely.

"How can I help you ?," he asked, resuming his seat behind his desk.

"Mr. Hassab," began Cowley urbanely, "I am sure you have been in this country long enough to realise that we have a great many rules and regulations. It is the law, and our policemen enforce it."

Hassab nodded, slightly puzzled as to where this was heading.

"Therefore," continued Cowley, "You must also understand that we do not take kindly to anyone who decides to take the law into their own hands."

Hassab felt the first trickle of apprehension. What was coming ?.

Cowley paused a moment for dramatic effect, then tossed his first bombshell. "What are your intentions regarding 'Alnnusr' ?," he demanded briskly.

Hassab was visibly shaken. He almost collapsed against the back of his chair, gasping in shock.

"How did you know ?," he whispered feebly.

"We have our ways," replied Cowley, not enlightening the shaken man.

Hassab drew a breath and spoke determinedly, "He's a merciless evil man," he declared, "And he has to be stopped !."

"I agree," said Cowley. "He must be stopped, but not by amateurs !. You do not have the resources. We do and we will use them."

Cowley gave the man a moment to recover, and then continued. "You seem to be very sure that he is coming to this country," he said. "How do you know that ?."

This question put Hassab into a quandary. To answer it truthfully would be to put a friend into danger. Safeer was here illegally. If found, he would be deported, and if that happened he would undoubtedly be killed by 'Alnnusr's men.

He slumped down in his chair, trying to think what to do.

Cowley used all his self-control to conceal his impatience. At last he could wait no longer.

"Mr. Hassab," he said forcefully. "We have some information, and you have some information. The logical step is to put all we know together."

And then he had a sudden insight into the man's reluctance to speak. "If your informant is one who needs to remain anonymous," he said in a quiet conciliatory tone, "we are very capable of turning a 'blind eye'."

Hassab eyed the man in front of him. As an honest business man with no connection with any dubious activities, he did not know a lot about C.I.5 and what they did. But this man had an air of quiet authority and determination about him.

Could he trust him ?

As if he felt the man's doubts, Cowley responded. "We already know what an evil man this is," he began, "and we have also learned that one of the young Arabs due to appear in court on serious drug charges, is his son, though he doesn't use his father's name."

Hassab was impressed that he knew this much.

"You seem very sure that he plans to come to this country," continued Cowley, repeating his earlier question. "How do you know that ?."

Hassab suddenly made up his mind. He would tell all he knew !

"I have a friend," he began, "who was once one of Alnnusr's men. He was bullied into it by an older man. But he soon realised how evil it all was. He wanted to get out, but knew that would not be easy. He began to make careful secret plans to get away. But just last week it all went wrong. Alnnusr found out about what he was doing, and sent men to kill him. He was going to his home to collect a bag and some money, but they were there before him. When they didn't see him there, they turned their guns on his family. They killed his parents and three younger siblings. Safeer saw it all, and heard their screams but could do nothing. He fled for his life. He got to this country, I don't know how, and came to me for shelter."

His audience was giving him complete attention as he went on. "He has made himself ill with grief and anger. My wife is looking after him. But before he had to leave in such a hurry, he had heard Alnnusr talking of his plans to come here to do something about his son. So that is how I know."

"Did he tell you any details ?," queried Cowley.

"Unfortunately, not," said Hassab, "He may know more, but at the moment he is too ill to question. He is sick with a fever, delirious and having nightmares."

Cowley looked thoughtful. "That doesn't get us a great deal further," he said. "My men are working on a slight lead which might help us identify two of the men closest to him. But that is all we have. We have no idea when he may come in or how."

He stood up to leave. "Hassab ," he said, "We are as anxious as you to apprehend this man. I will leave you a telephone number. If your friend recovers and can tell you more, you must let us know immediately."

"Oh, I will," replied Hassab, earnestly. "I realise now that I was foolish to think of doing anything myself, but I was so moved by my friend's story."

"Understandable," said Cowley.

As they got back into the car, Bodie risked a question. "What do we do now, sir," he asked tentatively.

"I don't know," admitted his boss. "I don't think Hassab had any definite plans. He spoke in the heat of the moment, because of anger about how his friend had been treated. So I think we have at least prevented him from leading those young men into doing something stupid."

"What about his friend ?," Bodie queried. "Sounds as if he's here illegally."

"Not our business," declared Cowley firmly. As he met Bodie's surprised look, he quickly added, "If Hassab is taking care of a sick friend, that's nothing to do with C.I.5."  
Feeling slightly snubbed, Bodie dropped the subject. His devious boss played by his own rules, and it certainly wasn't his place to argue.

They returned to Cowley's office where Doyle and Murphy were waiting to report on their efforts.

"We've got a couple of pictures," Doyle began, "but I doubt they will be much use. They are several years old, and they've probably changed a lot since then."

"And goodness knows what names they are using now," added Murphy. "They seem to change their names very easily."

"I can explain that," said Cowley. "Many Arabs have a large range of family names. If they use one of those they don't consider it a false name."

Murphy quickly accepted that, marvelling inwardly about the breadth of this man's knowledge.

Cowley then went on to tell the other two where they had been and what they had learned.

"I don't think we need to worry about Hassab's activities any more," he said, "I think he will be content to leave it to us."

A day or so later, Bodie and Doyle reported in early, to look at the duty roster in the rest room, and found, as they had expected, that their names were down to continue with the enquiries they had started yesterday.

"Let's hope we do a bit better today," said Bodie as they moved to leave.

They had barely reached the lift, when Cowley's voice was heard calling their names as he appeared at his office door. They did a quick about turn, and followed their boss back into his room.

"Leave what you were on today," ordered Cowley. "I'll get someone else on handling that."

Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances, pleased at this. Anything would be better than the boring and fruitless work they had been doing.

Cowley went on almost excitedly. "I've just had Hassab on the phone," he said. "His friend has recovered well, and is clear-headed again. He has told him about us, and he is very anxious to find if he can be of any more help. So I want you to go and talk to him. Here is the address. Hassab will be expecting you."

Bodie and Doyle hurried out. This should be a much more interesting task.

Hassab greeted them and ushered them in. He had made it his business to find out more about C.I.5, and had been impressed. So his manner, as he introduced them to his wife, Melira, and led them towards his friend's room, was respectful and almost deferential.

Safeer, still only in pyjamas and a dressing gown several sizes too big for him, was sitting out in a chair by the bed. He still looked an ill man, but his eyes were bright and clear, and his expression eager.

Chairs were found for his visitors, and he leaned forward eager to talk to them.

"You are going to catch this evil man, aren't you ?," he said pleadingly.

Remembering this man's sad story, the two nodded.

"We'll do our very best," said Doyle in a re-assuring tone.

"What can I do to help ?," begged Safeer.

Doyle produced the two rather grainy pictures he and Murphy had procured. Safeer took them eagerly, and his face lit up.

"They are old pictures" he said, "but I do know them. They are Alnnusr's constant companions, bodyguards, I suppose you would call them." And he went on to give them the names these men were currently using.

With Hassab's help over the spelling Doyle carefully wrote down this useful piece of information.

Safeer sat back in his chair. "I have been thinking," he said slowly. "You will be expecting Alnnusr to come into London, probably by plane ?,"

"Yes," said Bodie, "Trouble is, we haven't the slightest idea when, or which airline. Trying to cover them all is a tremendous task, and we haven't enough men to do it."

"I might be able to help a bit," said Safeer. "Alnnusr has gone abroad a couple of times in the last year, to Eastern Europe. He uses a small Moroccan airline. I think there is some family connection. They only have a few planes, and don't make regular services. But they do have one regular flight into London, mainly used by Arab business men. It is always into Stanstead on a Friday evening. It is most likely he will use that. And he will use the name Youssef Malik. He always does."

"It's a common name," interposed Bodie, remembering what Cowley had said once. "It's about the same as Joe Smith."

"Now that is interesting !," exclaimed Doyle. "We do now have three names to look out for. Snag is, we might be able to recognize those two we know about, but no-one seems to know what Alnnusr looks like."

"I do !," exclaimed Safeer. "He conceals his face in public, but not in his own home. I will do anything," he added eagerly. "I will stand up in court to identify him, even if it means I go to prison or am deported."

Doyle could see that the sick young man was working himself into a state again, so he tried to soothe him with a few comforting words.

"I hope it won't come to that," he said, "But Safeer, the best thing you can do now, is rest under the care you are getting, and get yourself fit and well again in case we need to call on you. You have given us a lot of information which we now must go and give to our boss . He will be very pleased, I'm sure, and we'll do what we can to help you."

They turned Safeer back into Melira's care, and made all speed back to base, where they related all they had heard to Cowley. Now they had a little more to work on.

Enquiries were put in hand immediately, and most of what Safeer had said was found to be accurate. There was a small Moroccan airline sending a weekly service into Stanstead on a Friday evening. Not a big plane, only one carrying less than fifty passengers.

Cowley went personally to the offices of the small Moroccan airline. He did not know whether they were 'in the know' about their possible passenger. Alnnusr had spies and men everywhere, even here in London, as witness the murder of Asalah's flatmate.

So he lied blatantly, saying that he was looking out for a man and a woman travelling together, even giving them viable names.

They seemed co-operative enough, and readily produced the last passenger list. As it was now Monday, Cowley had been a bit concerned that he might have missed his quarry, but thankfully the names Safeer had given them were not on the list. Nor, of course, were the fictitious names he had supplied.

He left with the promise from the officials that they would send him Friday's list as soon as they had it. He was inclined to trust them, and so was very pleased when Thursday's morning post had brought him the promised list.

He scanned it eagerly. Yes, there were the three names he was looking for ! Now he could go ahead with his plans.

And so it was that the usual Friday evening crowd at Stanstead airfield was augmented by a dozen more men, including Bodie and Doyle, and Cowley himself. Acting under his orders the men were spread out, covering all exits, and all very alert.

Cowley had planned a small informal 'pick-up' with as little fuss as possible. They waited tensely. Then the arrival of the plane was announced. A short wait, and the passengers began to come through, singly and in small groups.

Cowley's phone 'beeped'. It was the man he'd placed with the customs people, checking the names on the list.

"Coming through now," the man whispered. "Three together, all in Arab dress."

Cowley, with Bodie and Doyle beside him, saw them come through the swing-doors, and began to move forward, a quick word alerting the rest of his men.

Then, suddenly, things changed. The three men were rapidly surrounded by half a dozen others, most in Arab costume.

Cowley spoke swiftly into his phone. "Abort plan A," he ordered, "Plan B. Get to your cars and follow ! Don't attempt to accost. Don't alert them, but don't lose them !."

Bodie and Doyle were already on the move, back to their car, having seen what their boss had seen, and understanding his changed orders. The three incoming men would not be armed because of the security controls. But the group that had joined them certainly were ! They had seen the clear tell-tale shape of automatic rifles under the long cloaks being worn.

They had realised, as Cowley had, that there was no way they could risk a deadly 'shoot-out' in an area so crowded with innocent travellers.

Cowley's well trained teams responded well.

The Arab party had piled into two large black limousines, conspicuous and easy to follow.

Bodie drove, taking the first stint, while Doyle at his side issued sharp orders to the others. He arranged several changes of the 'lead' cars, and also several 'overlaps', all designed in the hope that that the Arab group ahead wouldn't notice they were being 'tailed'.

Cowley went to find his own car and his alerted driver, and joined the procession, keeping in constant phone contact.

As it was a Friday evening, the traffic was fairly heavy, but the men of C.I.5 were determined not to lose their quarry, and used all their driving skills, chopping and changing often as Doyle instructed.

Cowley, following not far behind, listened avidly to the flow of reports between the cars, and tried, with his vast knowledge of London to work out just where the Arab gang were heading.

The traffic gradually thinned out as they headed into a more residential area, which made following easier but concealment harder.

At last Cowley got the report he was waiting for, from Bodie direct to him.

"They've 'gone to ground', sir," he reported. "A large detached house with a big front garden. All our cars are parked up unobtrusively. We are waiting till you join us for further orders. Doyle's gone for a walk to have a quick look."

Doyle was strolling along the road to pass the open gateway to the house. He encountered a man walking a big golden retriever, and promptly concocted a tall tale.

"Excuse me, sir," he said politely, reaching out to stroke the dog, "I was driving this way with my aunt this afternoon. She spotted this house with its sign, FOR SALE, and took a fancy to it. Do you know anything about it ?."

As his dog had responded well to this man's attention, the man answered readily. Dogs have an instinct about people and she'd accepted him.

"It's been empty about three months," he said, "But it's been well kept up. A nice elderly couple, retired abroad, I think. But if she's interested you'd better be quick about it. I saw the agent taking an Arab gentleman in yesterday, to show him round. They've got the money, haven't they ?."

"So has my eccentric aunt," lied Doyle, "Silly old bat, but I'm trying to keep in her 'good books'."

This made the man laugh. "Good luck," he said.

"I'll take a note of the agent's name and number," Doyle said, looking up at the board. The man smiled as he moved on.

Doyle hurried back to the car and passed on what he'd learned to Cowley.

"Good," responded his boss. "I'll be there in five minutes."

As it was an 'up-market' residential area, and it was getting on into late evening, there was nobody about, and very little passing traffic.

So there was no-one to notice as a big car pulled in behind another in a quiet lay-by. Or to see, as a man got out, that he was instantly surrounded by several others, emerging silently from the darkening night.

Cowley looked round his group. Two were missing.

"Bodie and Doyle ?," he demanded, "Where are they ?."

"They've gone to have a quick 'recce'," replied one of the men.

"Couldn't wait !," snapped Cowley. "Fools ! They might have set up a watch."

"They haven't, sir," said Bodie, suddenly at his elbow.

"They're relaxing," added Doyle, from the other side. "Two of them are sitting at a table in the kitchen at the back. Another one by the stove seems to be getting a meal together."

"There are lights on in the ground floor front room," said Bodie, "But the curtains are drawn so we don't know who's in there."

"And there are lights upstairs, probably bedrooms," added Doyle. "So they are spread all over the house."

Cowley was assimilating all the valuable information these two had acquired.

"We're not absolutely sure how many are in there," he mused. "There are the three we are after, but the other lot ? Was it five or six ? It all happened so fast I'm not sure."  
He threw a questioning glance towards Bodie and Doyle who had been with him when it happened. Both shook their heads, looking doubtful.

"I couldn't swear to it," said Bodie. "We'll just have to be extra wary."

"And there could have been others in the house already," added Cowley.

"No, sir, I don't think so," suddenly put in one of the men. "I stopped for a moment and saw them go in. There were no lights on anywhere then, and it looked as if the first man was fumbling with a key. No-one opened the door to them."

"Good," said Cowley, relieved by this. "So it's likely to be eight or nine. But remember these are evil men, ruthless killers. They're probably the ones who killed that Arab girl a while ago. So make your actions sure and swift."

During all this conversation, his busy mind had been working overtime, planning the coming attack, and now he issued brisk orders.

"Mayer, you take a team and cover the three in the kitchen. Bodie, Doyle, Johnson and myself, we'll take the front room as that's likely where Alnnusr is. The rest of you cover the hallway, the stairs, and whoever is up there."

He looked round at the determined faces of his men. "We have the element of surprise in our favour, gentlemen," he said. "Let's use it well."

He sent Mayer's group off first, to give them time to get into position before his signal to go in. They crept stealthily into the garden, and using the ample cover of the overgrown shrubbery made their way round to the back of the house.

Doyle had told them that the back door led straight into the kitchen. So they positioned themselves a few yards from there and waited for word from Cowley. He gave them a few minutes grace, and then led the rest of the group through the straggly bushes to positions as near as possible to the front door.

A quick word was given and the attack was launched simultaneously on the back and front doors.

Mayer's group had the first instant success. The flimsy back door offered little resistance, and the trio inside were taken completely by surprise. The two at the table made the fatal mistake of attempting to go for the guns leaning against their chairs and immediately paid the penalty.

The third man, the cook, decided wisely. His hands shot high in the air, one still holding the knife he had been using. Mayer snatched that from him, and used it quickly to cut up a handy tea-towel. He thrust the pieces into the hands of one of his men'

"Tie him up with that," he ordered, "and make it tight. Then follow us."

He led the rest of his team out into the hallway, ready to be of use wherever needed.

Cowley's group had found the front door harder to break down, so when they swept through and opened the door to the front room, the group there had had time to draw weapons, and a fusillade of shots greeted them. But they were alert and dodged back, only Johnson sustaining a slight injury as splinters from the door-frame grazed his cheek.

Those shots may have missed their target, but those from the men of C.I.5 did not !

With heavy thuds, three bodies hit the floor. With guns still ready Bodie and Doyle advanced cautiously, but their wariness was not necessary, as those three would not move again.

Out in the hallway, half a dozen guns were trained up the carpeted stairs. At first, nothing moved up above. Then a man appeared on the landing, his gun spewing bullets haphazardly downwards. He scored the only casualty sustained by Cowley's men, as one of them dropped to the floor, clutching his leg. He was quickly grabbed and pulled to shelter.

But the man on the landing did not survive to continue his attack. Hit by a barrage of shots from below, his already lifeless body was tumbling head over heels down the stairs. He was quickly pulled out of the way, as several of the others began a cautious ascent, well covered by their comrades. They reached the landing unchallenged, and began to spread out to check the rooms. The first was empty, but as one of the men carefully reached out with his foot to push open the second, he was met by a burst of fire which sprayed uselessly out onto the landing. Seconds later, another gunman was rapidly despatched.

A further careful search of the upstairs room revealed nothing more. The whole group congregated downstairs again, satisfied that their job was completed.

The injured man was being given first aid, but he was not badly hurt. One of their cars would take him for professional treatment as soon as it was convenient.

Johnson, standing beside Cowley, had a worried look on his face. "I suppose we have got him, the man we were after, sir ?," he said hesitantly.

"Yes, of course we have," snapped Cowley. "What made you say that ?," he asked sharply.

"I don't know," replied Johnson. "It's just that they all look alike to me, and we have only accounted for eight when we expected nine. It would be terrible if he's got away after all."

Cowley looked astonished at the man's words. But Bodie standing on the other side of his boss had heard them too.

"Well there's one sure way to find out," he said decisively. The other two swung round to look at him.

"How ?," demanded Cowley.

"Get Safeer to look at all the bodies," replied Bodie instantly.

Just at that moment, Mayer hurried into the room. "Sir," he said urgently, "There are two police cars out on the road !"

"I should have phoned them earlier," said Cowley. "I expect local people have reported the sound of gunfire."

He turned to Bodie. "Bodie," he ordered, "Go and deal with that. Explain to them who we are, and ask the senior man to come in and talk to me. They may be able to give us some assistance."

When the man came in, he was at first shocked by the sight of so many bodies, but Cowley quickly and succinctly gave him the basic details of the situation. He then used his full authority to good effect to ensure that they had total police co-operation.

With their assistance it was arranged for mortuary vans to very discreetly collect all the bodies and to transport them to the mortuary he designated.

He then left them with the task of getting the house cleaned up, and of informing the estate agents. They, of course, knew nothing about it. They were rather disappointed when the promising Arab buyer did not come again. Neither did they hear from Doyle's totally imaginary aunt, of course.

The C.I.5 men collected their cars and returned to base. One group took the injured man the hospital. His injury was not serious, and he was soon treated and discharged.

Another took the captured man, name Achmed, to the Interrogation Centre. He would be questioned there and then passed on to the proper authorities.

Then all who could went home to grab a few hours rest, satisfied with what they had achieved.

The following morning, Cowley himself went to see Safeer. Unsure of what the young man's re-action would be to further trauma, he got Hassab's help to tentatively put forward the suggestion that Safeer might identify the bodies.

To his great surprise, Safeer, greatly recovered now, jumped at the chance, eager to do it.

"I do not fear the dead," he said, "It is the living who frighten me."

So the following afternoon, Bodie and Doyle were despatched to bring Hassab and Safeer to meet Cowley at the mortuary. They were led into the room where the seven bodies were laid out.

Safeer, with Hassab hovering near him, afraid that he might need support, began to move along the line.

He did not know the first two, who were ones from the London group. He paused by the third. "I think I may have seen him in Cairo," he said, hesitantly. "His name might be Hamoud."

He moved on. Then as the cover was turned back from the next one, he gave vent to an excited shout.

"It is him ! Alnnusr ! You have got him !," he almost yelled.

"You are sure ?," said Cowley.

"Oh yes, very sure," said Safeer. "I will never forget that evil face." He was almost reluctant to move on, as if he barely believed his eyes.

The next one he also knew. "That is Shadid, his right hand man, and equally evil," he said.

He moved on to the last two, but did not know them. He turned back to Cowley, and now there was a look almost of panic on his face.

"Hamir !," he exclaimed, "Where is Hamir ?."

Cowley's worst fears, alerted by Johnson, were realised. One man had escaped them, and one of the most evil at that. Unknown to anyone, Hamir had slipped out into the back garden for the forbidden smoke he had craved after the long car journey. He had moved to the furthest end of the long garden to avoid detection. He had seen the C.I.5 men move in, but alone and un-armed he had been too late to do anything about it.

"We'll find him, somehow !," Cowley declared vehemently.

He thanked Safeer for what he had done. After all his excitement, the young man looked exhausted.

"What will happen to me now ?," he asked, in a dejected tone. "Will I be sent back ?. It will mean my death, I know, but at least I shall know that the world is rid of Alnnusr's evil."

"It may not come to that," said Cowley. "We might be able to find you papers to stay."

"I could help," put in Hassab. "I can find him a job, and a nice family looking for a lodger."

Safeer's face brightened. Perhaps he had a future after all, and could begin a new life.

"It's time I got you home to bed," said Hassab, "You've had enough for one day."

"We'll take you," said Doyle, who had been waiting with Bodie, and received a confirmatory nod from Cowley.

The four made their way out of the room and along the corridor towards the yard outside where all the cars were parked,

Doyle led the way, his arm supporting Safeer, who was suddenly tired. He had grown to like the young Arab who had gone through so much. Bodie followed with Hassab.

They had almost reached the parked cars, when a man suddenly appeared round the corner of the building. He had a gun in his hands, and was pointing it at Safeer.

"Traitor !," he yelled and began to fire.

Doyle re-acted swiftly. He grabbed Safeer and pushed him violently down behind the nearest parked car. Both men fell in a tangled heap.

Bodie some way behind, was equally as quick. He pushed Hassab back into the shelter of a doorway. His gun was in his hand, and his shot didn't miss.

The would-be assailant fell to the ground and lay still. He wouldn't get up.

Bodie turned his gaze to the two behind the car. Safeer was moving, trying to get up from under Doyle.

Dismayed to see his partner wasn't moving, Bodie hurried forward. He rolled Doyle over, and blanched inwardly as he saw blood on his friend's forehead. His fingers reached forward to push aside some of the dark curls, and saw, to his relief, that it was only a surface injury, a deep cut, but not a bullet wound.

Safeer was looking on anxiously. "I think he hit his head on the back of the car," he said worriedly.

"Knocked himself out, silly sod," said Bodie, very relieved

He helped Safeer extricate himself form under the limp form, as Hassab hurried towards them. Doyle was beginning to stir already, and Hassab helped Bodie to sit him up against the car bumper.

Safeer, meanwhile, had shot off to look at the fallen body, and came hurrying back. "It is Hamir, he said.

By this time Cowley and Johnson, alerted by the shots had come out. Bodie quickly explained what had happened. Cowley took charge.

"Johnson," he ordered, "Take Hassab and Safeer home in my car, and then come back for me. I'll clear up things here."

By this time Doyle was back on his feet, busy dabbing at the injury with his handkerchief.

"Bodie," said Cowley. "Take Doyle to get that seen to."

"Come on," said Bodie, taking his friend's arm, and propelling him to their car. "Let's get you cleaned up." As they walked he added a comment.

"Well, it was the heck of a job in the end," he said, "But at least we finally clipped 'The Eagle's' wings."

"Bodie !," protested Doyle, "That really is the feeblest attempt at a joke."

"So," retorted his mate, "Can you think of something better ?."

As he sank gratefully into the passenger seat, feeling the start of a nasty headache coming on, Doyle had to admit, that, just at that moment, it was more than he could manage.


End file.
